Small Town Stella
by PTBvisiongrrl
Summary: Dean had the girl before. Sam gets the girl this time. The girl wants both boys next time. Not a lot of plot here.
1. Chapter 1

**FIC TITLE** : Smalltown Stella

(Thank Lou Reed lyrics for a title.)

 **Author** \- PTBvisiongrrl

 **Part-** 1/?

I absolutely plan on continuing this, but the next bits are not written or editing yet, so the update

might take a bit.

 **Date-** 10/18/15

 **Rating** – M/NC-17

 **Pairings/Characters** \- No Wincest—but plenty of other sex and a threesome (Dean/OFC/Sam)

 **Word Count-** 6,482

 **Genre-** PWP

 **Warnings-** If PWP or M/F/M threesome will offend you, click back now.

 **Spoilers-** Not really. I have only seen through Season 5 and this is largely AU. Place it sometime in Season One.

 **Disclaimers-** _New to the fandom, though not fanfiction, so characters may be a little off._ _Unfortunately, I don't own any of these characters, and make absolutely no profit from taking them out to play…so please don't sue me. If I did own them, there would be a lot more shirtless Jensen Ackles getting some on the show!_

 **Summary-**

Dean had the girl before. Sam gets the girl this time. The girl wants both boys next time. Not a lot of plot here.

Chapter 1

"C'mon, Sammy. Successful hunt, still pretty flush after last week's huge haul hustling pool….let's celebrate life a little!" Dean tried to draw his little brother out of the mood Sam had fallen back into this morning. "There's this little bar not too far down the road, awesome food, great selection of beer—last time through here, on a hunt by myself, there was this amazing red-headed waitress…."

Dean powered through the sideways, irritated stare Sam gave him. "All the girls there were hot. You aren't me, of course, but if you stopped with the brooding and put those puppy-dog eyes of yours to work, you'd be pretty busy. I mean, last bar, you had girls eyeing you up all night, but you couldn't even tell when that blonde hottie was hitting on you."

Sam's eyes shifted forward and closed, and he sunk down in the Impala's passenger seat. Crossing his arms and leaning against the glass, Sam tried to ignore Dean's continued extolling of the virtues of no-strings "cleaning of the pipes" for helping raise a hunter's spirits. When it didn't work, he reached out and turned up the volume of Metallica to the point where even Dean couldn't shout loud enough to be heard. Surrendering to the pounding bass, Sam thought about Jessica, how much he missed her…and how he couldn't look at other women just yet because somehow they all reminded him of her...until he fell asleep.

 **D &S/D&S/D&S**

The waitress was a red head, built like a real-life Barbie, and happy to see Dean, based on her wide smile and "Well, hello sugar, long time no see!" greeting. Her smile got even wider, however, at the new "long, tall drink of water" he brought with him, inquiring who Dean's friend was.

"Not a friend, Stella. That's my baby brother," Dean cackled.

"You sure about that?" Stella asked, eyes twinkling. "I mean, baby brothers aren't supposed to tower over big brothers, are they?"

Sam immediately liked her a little. Anyone who could rib Dean about his height compared to Sam and get away with it earned some points in Sam's book. "I keep telling him to stop embarrassing himself by introducing me that way." Sam smiled back at her and offered his hand. "My name's Sam, Stella."

"Well, nice to meet you, Sam. I think I know Dean's order already—a dozen Srichachi wings and a Yeungling Black and Tan?" Stella confirmed with Dean's chuckle and nod. "But what can I get you?"

Sam did that pressed together and to the side lip thing that showed he was unsure. "Didn't decide yet. Any recommendations?"

Stella studied him for a minute. "We have a really good blue cheese burger, topped with Ghost chili hot sauce, if you like things spicy. Or if you prefer more traditional, we have a Colby-jack bacon burger topped with onion rings on a Hawaiian roll."

Dean laughed. "Sammy here doesn't do spicy food," he added, slapping Sam on the shoulder in what Dean thought was a congenial manner and Sam thought was obnoxious.

"That bacon burger sounds good, thanks." Sam closed his menu and handed it to the waitress. "Coke, please, to drink."

Stella smiled widely and left to place their order, while Sam mumbled under his breath at Dean. Dean pretended not to hear, scanning the bar for girls. There were a few here, but given the midweek night not many. If Dean hadn't already had an eye on the waitress, there was a curvy, dark haired girl at the bar with another redhead that he would have gone for. He pointed the girl out to the Sam. "What about the chick at the bar? She do it for you?" Dean nodded to Sam, directing his attention.

"I would actually like to talk to a girl before I proposition her, Dean. You are such a slut." Sam shot Dean an angry look.

Dean took mild offense. "Just because no one can resist my boyish good looks and natural charm, I'm a slut? And I don't just go home with any one, Sam. I do have standards."

"A pulse?" Sam shot back.

Dean was saved from answering by Stella's return with his beer, Sam's soda, and a two shot glasses. "The shots are from those two lovelies at the bar," Stella motioned her head towards the two girls Dean had been looking at, "for the two handsome fellas who just got here."

Dean turned to smile at the girls—who giggled after catching his eye. "See, Sammy? Girls just can't help themselves. I'm irresistible."

Stella laughed. "Is that what you tell yourself, Dean?"

The look of surprise and indignation on Dean's face made Sam do a spit-take. "Hey!"

"Oh, Dean. I'm not saying you aren't hot shit, believe me. I know better than some that you are 100% Grade A prime beef, and a great time." Stella stoked his ego a bit before cutting him down. "But those girls were talking about your baby brother here before they sent drinks over."

"You are kidding me!" Dean yelped. He was more than willing to share a spotlight with this brother, but as oldest—he was not willing to totally step out of it.

"I believe the comment was something like, I wonder if _everything_ is in proportion…." Stella laughed at how red Dean's face got, and smiled at the blush that crept across Sam's cheeks and up to the tips of his ears.

"I have to do something about this," Dean muttered, downing both his own shot and Sam's before standing with beer in hand to make his way over to the bar.

Sam just shook his head, and Stella, too. "He is so predictable," Stella smiled at Sam. "Give it a half-hour, and he will be leaving with both those girls. I hope you have another way home?" she asked.

Sam studied her. He knew she and Dean had hooked up before, but she didn't seem at all interested in his big brother tonight. "He usually remembers to give me the keys first."

"Well, if he doesn't, I'm done in an hour," Stella stated, winked, and went to take the order of another table. "Your food will be here soon."

Twenty-five minutes later, Dean made his way back to the table, shit-eating grin on his face and car keys in his hand. "Got plans, Sammy. Take good care of my baby!"

"Seriously, Dean? You're skipping out on me this early? Going out was your idea!" Sam had already had two other women approach him, but neither had impressed him much. One had quickly run out of things to say when Sam showed zero interest in reality television, and the other simply wasn't that bright. When she asked where he was from, she thought Kansas was in New England.

Dean just shrugged. "Sorry, Sam. The girls are eager to leave…BOTH of them."

"Got it, Dean. Two girls and you, dream come true. Hope you can keep up!" Sam took the keys.

"Believe me, not a problem," Dean threw over his shoulder on the way back to the bar to gather up his lovelies.

Stella was back with the wings and burger just in time to see Dean leave with a girl on each arm. "I hope he can handle those two," she chuckled, placing the food in front of Sam. "And I hope you can handle these wings," she added.

"What do you, mean handle those two?" Sam asked, always on the lookout for his brother.

"They aren't demons or anything like that," Stella assured him, raising her eyebrows at Sam's incredulous look. "I know hunters when I see them, Sam. I know those two and they are just tag-team nymphomaniacs. If Dean can't keep up, they'll just amuse each other and let him watch. Plus, I slipped some holy water into their last drinks just to check before I'd let Dean leave with them."

Stella patted Sam's shoulder. "And I heard Dean _christo_ them both as well. He's not stupid, just horny."

Again, Sam blinked at her, still too stunned to speak. "Did I break you, little brother?" Stella smiled at him, finally cutting through his stupor.

"Are you a hunter?" Sam managed to ask.

Stella shook her head. "Mother and father, both, and husband." Seeing Sam's quick glance at her ring finger and plain silver band there, she added, "All killed on the job."

Sam sighed. "That's rough."

Stella shrugged. "Everyone in the world has their own version of rough. Mine isn't all that bad, compared to some. Lonely, sometimes, but that's the life I was born to and knew no better."

"Did you want to be a hunter?" Sam asked.

Stella heard her name called by the bartender, and shouted back that she'd be right there. "We can continue this conversation when I'm off the clock, if you'd like, but I have to get back to work."

Sam licked his lips. "Would you like to continue our conversation?" he asked, eyes unguarded and shy.

Stella smiled widely. "Yes, I would."

"I'll be here," Sam answered.

 **D &S/D&S/D&S**

The next time Stella stopped by, she brought his check and nodded at the clock. "I clock out in five minutes; will take about ten to settle up with Charlie for the night and then I'll be back."

It was more like fifteen, by the time she made it to the table, but her make-up looked freshened and there was a drink in both her hands. "Brought you another one, and one with a kick for myself." She slid into the booth across from him.

"Thank you," Sam said and then sipped.

"Why no alcohol?" Stella asked. "Most hunters, on their down time, are quite the hell raisers. Dean's a case in point."

"I don't like to lose control, and I can't hold my liquor as well as my brother," Sam answered. "Dean drinks my share as well as his."

"So you are one of the hunters who might live to a ripe old age, then," Stella took a sip of her own drink.

"That what happened to your family?" Sam asked, falling back into the groove of their earlier conversation.

"My parents were hell-raisers, but damn good hunters as well. Just the wrong place at the wrong time; intel was wrong, and a demon was waiting." Stella took another sip. "My husband, well, he was an idiot on top of a drunk. He learned the hard way that pronunciation is key during ritual magic."

Sam made a sympathetic noise. "What went wrong?"

"Demon decided he was tasty." Stella sipped her drink again. "I decided widowhood was preferably to marriage to a demon."

"Ouch," was all Sam could muster, pushing the conversation into an awkward lull.

Stella revived it. "How much younger are you than Dean?"

"Four years. And he NEVER lets me forget it." Sam leaned back in his chair a little. "Dad's a hunter, too, so Dean practically raised me when we were little."

"Funny he didn't mention you before. Dean and I have been…friendly for a while." Stella asked without a question.

"I was away at school. Came back just last year." Sam knew most people would either be impressed or turned off by his next statement. No one likes lawyers, after all. "I was going to go to law school, but something came up. Dean needed me." Sam ran his hand through his unruly hair. "Never went back."

"Life happens that way," Stella tilted her head. "Believe me, I never intended to be at this place as long as I have."

"How long?" Sam asked, wanting to keep the conversation going. Rare enough to find a woman he wanted to talk to, much less one he could talk openly to about the family business. 

"Four years. Charlie has an apartment out back that I rent, and I do some tarot reading on the side. Tips aren't too bad, even out here in the middle of almost-nowhere." Stella took a deep swallow of her drink. Sam could tell that she didn't want to talk much more. "I just really haven't found a reason to leave, yet, I guess."

Sam envied her for a minute. To stay in one place longer than a month or two—until Stanford, three months was the longest Sam has lived in any place until his junior year of high school, and that was just twice. Sam had chosen to stay behind from hunts and take care of himself at that point so that he could finish school and have a shot at applying to college. His father hadn't seen the point in college—they didn't exactly teach you how to hunt—but Dean had sided with him and defended him to his father. "Mom would have wanted him to go to college," was the last thing Dean said before walking out to the Impala to leave on the hunt, leaving John no choice but to follow.

"I'm glad you stayed, Stella," Sam took her hand. "Because I got to meet you."

Stella studied him, then drained her glass. "My apartment is out back. Want to come by for a drink?"

Sam drained his own glass. "Yes, I would like that a lot."

 **D &S/D&S/D&S**

Stella led the way up wide, weathered wooden steps and across a rather empty matching deck. She paused as they reached the door. "Are you the gentlemanly type who opens doors for the ladies?" She asked, holding up her keys.

Sam gave her the half-smile, one corner tugged up in mild humor. "I might be—but I don't think you would like it."

"Good call, Sammy," she smiled, opening the door and flipping on a lamp. "Did you really want that drink, or can we skip it?"

Sam studied Stella's face in the half-shadows. "I think its ladies' choice tonight."

Stella bit her lip, dropping her purse and jacket on a chair next to the door. "The lady is still making up her mind. I think a drink and a talk would be positively enchanting…but I also really want to skip ahead to the bare skin and orgasms."

Sam blushed.

"The fact that I make you blush so pretty… I feel like some femme fatale here!" She brushes the back of her hand against Sam's prominent cheekbone. "Like I'm taking advantage of you."

Sam laughed, nervousness in his voice. "I'm just…outta practice?"

"Oh, honey, that just made you even hotter." Stella sat on the sofa and patted the spot next to her. "I'll take it slow for you, then. Or whatever speed you prefer."

Sam colored even more and sat down stiffly next to her, which made Stella smile a sweet, shy smile. "I'm not going to ask why you are out of practice, because that will just be a mood killer. But I like the idea of getting you back into the game."

"I'm not that—playful about it. Sex. I'm not certainly not the man-whore Dean is. I don't usually pick someone up in a bar and gone home with them," Sam admitted in a low voice. There was just something about Stella that made him want to talk to her.

"Be still my heart. I get to pop your one-night-stand cherry! I'm starting to feel some pressure to perform, here." Stella grasped her chest dramatically, then got serious. "And, by the way, I'm not a demon, either. Christo!"

Sam laughed, as Stella had intended. "So if I'm doing all the heavy lifting here, Sam," Stella turned to him, "maybe you should kiss me first."

Sam studied Stella's face—pretty, heart-shaped, wide blue eyes the color of the sky in summer, and very full lips. Those lips really did beg to be kissed, he thought, making a decision. He leaned over, tilted his head, and brushed his mouth against hers softly—once, twice, three times. By the fourth time, he pressed those lips open and teased her tongue with his before pulling back.

"Oh, Sam." Stella sighed. "I'm not going to break." And she kissed him back, cupping his cheek and resting her fingers below his ear. Just a little more force than Sam had used, which he then returned. His large hands reached enough to cradle her head while they kissed; she rose on her knees to better meet him halfway.

Sam's left hand dropped to her hip and then cupped her ass, pulling her towards him. Stella ended up in his lap, straddling his hips. She shifted so that she could push him against the sofa's back and leaned her body against his, breasts firm and full pressing against his hard muscles.

Sam's hands wrapped themselves in her hair, keeping her mouth on his until he needed to break for air. Her lips were soft, and so full…he couldn't get enough of them. He loved the feel of her slight weight on him, making him feel protective of her fragility—the illusion of which lasted only until she grasped his broad shoulders for balance and she ravaged his mouth. He had a feeling she could more than hold her own if pushed. The thought of not having to handle her like a porcelain doll, afraid to break her, made him less gentle than he usually was. He took her mouth deeper, harder. He could have stayed like that for much longer than they did; his concentration on her mouth and that playful tongue was replaced by a gradual awareness of her rolling her hips against him as they kissed.

She spread her knees wider to find better friction, just as he shifted to improve contact. Her gasp and eyes closing with a shudder at the feel of him against her inner core stopped the action for a moment. "Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.

Stella licked her lips. "More than," she whispered, grinding hard against him and earning the same reaction from Sam that she had just had. "Are you okay?" she laughed.

Sam's hands slipped down to encircle her waist, pulling her down against him just as he moved his hips upward. His smile at her arching back was enough of an answer-

Friction, heat, the slide of mouth on mouth was interrupted when Stella threw her head back and moaned. It was distinctive, and made Sam pull her tighter to him. "Almost there?" he asked, watching the cords in her neck stand out as she struggled to catch her breath.

"Yes," she ground even harder against him. "Just a little-"

And it really did just take a little more. Sam swallowed her moans, hands scrambling to pull her t-shirt up and off. Breaking the kiss to tear the offending material over her head, Stella leaned her forehead against his. "I can't believe you made me cum fully clothed."

"Imagine what I can do with your clothes off," Sam answered, long digits already struggling with her jeans' snap.

"If I'm losing clothes, so are you," Stella raised an eyebrow. "Shirt, gone, now."

Sam complied quickly, and she ran her hands over the muscles of his broad chest. "You are yummy," was all she said before ducking down to tease one nipple and then the other. Running her nails up his sides as she drew level to his face, "I can't wait to see the rest of you."

Popping open her bra and pulling it down her arms, Sam agreed. "Me, too," was her only warning before his lips drew her nipples in. He sucked one, then the other. He was gentle at first, just a ghost of a pull, before sucking harder, rougher. When she made positive noises to his actions, he increased the roughness, pulling back as he sucked hard, drawing more of the areola into his mouth, and tender nibbles as he let the nipple go. Kissing up the valley between breasts, he gently bit his way up her neck, tugging on her earlobe in tandem with rolling her nipples with his long fingers.

"You are gorgeous, all worked up like this," Sam lowly whispered into her ear. "I want to see more of you." Reaching again for her jeans, Stella rose up on her knees to help him out. Once unbuttoned, she needed to stand to remove anything further. Sam helped her up and off him, watching her pull one shapely leg out and then the other. He could see the edges of a tattoo of some kind on her hipbone. When he reached to pull her panties to the side to get a better view of it, however, she stopped his hand. "You have more clothes on than me again, Sam."

Smiling, Sam rose and let Stella unbutton his jeans. She pulled them down slowly, falling to her knees as she did so and looking up at him. There was no way to avoid, on the way down or looking up, the effect she was having on him. Reaching up to cup him, she rubbed his evident interest through cotton boxer-briefs and was surprised to find that he wasn't yet fully erect—despite the size of his bulge. "Those girls would be so disappointed to find out just how…proportional you really are."

Sam held his breath as Stella handled him, then let her hands wander up to his waistband while she mouthed him through the material. As his briefs came down, she pulled away momentarily but then immediately engulfed him with her mouth. Of the few girlfriends he had had, none had managed to handle his length as well as Stella did. He could feel her relax the muscles in her throat to take him in deeper, the extraordinary soft barrier as his tip brushed against the uvula…

When she wrapped her hands around his ass, pulling him when he didn't thrust against her, Sam started listing the ways to kill a demon to keep from losing it so quickly. Her mouth and throat felt amazing. When Sam felt himself getting ready to tip over the edge, he tried to stop Stella's movement, but she was caught up in it and didn't notice his attempt.

Gentlemanly instincts warred. Sam didn't want to cum without warning down her throat (well, he did, but it wasn't polite and he knew it) AND he didn't want to have to use force to stop her. It was quickly getting to the point of no return, however, so he gave it one last attempt. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he pulled back harder than before.

Even pulling her back far enough to be able to catch her eyes left his cock fairly far into her mouth. Stella gave a little mew of distress, but stopped. "Stella, I'm going-" was all he got out before she drove her mouth back on him and took all he had to give.

Sam panted, trying to catch his breath, finding it stolen by the sight of Stella licking her lips like a cat. Stella rose, pulling Sam's jeans back up a bit, and then grabbed his hand and tugged him in the direction of her bedroom.

 **D &S/D&S/D&S**

Stella crawled up the bed—no other way to describe it—and turned, settling on her back, legs splayed open. "My turn," she smiled, one hand drifting over the visually damp spot on her panties.

Sam agreed, stripping quickly and positioning himself between her thighs. He pulled her down towards him, strength in those arms evident by the ease with which he moved her. He brushed his nose against her mound, enjoying her scent, before placing a trail of open-mouth kisses down her inner thigh, totally ignoring where she wanted his attention.

Stella squirmed, trying to refocus Sam's attention, but he pulled his mouth away. "My turn to play," Sam corrected her, his voice lower and more gravely than in conversation. Not demanding, exactly, but his tone promised enough that she stilled herself and agreed.

Resuming the path back up her thigh, Sam added gentle bites to each kiss. As he reached the juncture of her leg and torso, he teased a line parallel to her still-on panties before brushing against her center again. It was a brief moment of pressure and expectation, which ended as soon as he began a mirror journey down and up her other thigh.

Stella tried to widen Sam's access, opening her legs just a little bit more, but Sam again stopped her, eyes on her, restating, "My turn."

For a guy who did not ping her radar as very dominant, Sam could pull it off when he wanted to. She bit her lip, staring him down for a minute, before relaxing once again into his grip. She was rewarded with a hard nibble (not a bite, no teeth on her skin, but definite pressure) just where her leg and feminine folds met. Wanting more rewards for letting Sam lead, Stella made her appreciation vocal, moaning lowly.

Sam did it again, on the other leg. Stella couldn't stop the spasm that ran up her body. "More, please, Sam," she asked. She wasn't begging, yet, but had a feeling that it might soon be on the menu.

Pulling her panties to the side, Sam bit down again, harder, before tonguing his way across and into her folds.

Finally, she thought, gasping and trying to catch her breath.

Sam's tongue was nimble. Circling her bud, dipping into her core before dancing around her lips, over and over again. The build-up was amazing, like the slow upward climb of a roller coaster—knowing the real fun was barreling down again. Her peak was hit when Sam went straight at her clit, back and forth relentlessly with his tongue. As she thrashed, he maintained his speed and pressure against her, making her cum three times in a row, without pause.

Stella swore she actually blacked out trying to catch her breath, because the next thing she recognized was cool air on the skin where she had previously had on panties, a tearing sound of foil, and the solid feel of a cock at her entrance. When she tried to speak, still not quite recovered from Sam's mouth and a little apprehensive about taking his size, Sam paused. Leaning down over her, he pressed his lips against hers, nudging her lips open until she could taste herself. When she slid her tongue against his in response, he pulled away for a minute and asked, "Still my turn?"

The combination of sweetness and desire in his tone assured her quick acquiescence with a whispered, "Yes." Good thing, too, because the sound of her answer hadn't yet died when she felt him slide into her.

Not too thick—but meaty enough—long—his cock stretched her, farther than she was used to, but Sam had thoroughly prepared her with his mouth. As he pushed inch after inch into her snugness, she felt another orgasm immediately begin to wash over her. She had always been a multiple orgasm gal (one of the reasons she liked sex as much as she did), but this was new.

Sam simply smiled at her, gently riding her clenching spasms out. "You feel so good, so tight on me," he closed he eyes as he rocked against her.

"We're a good match, Sam—because you feel really damn good in me," Stella wrapped her hands around his ass, opening her legs wider to pull him into her tighter and deeper. She groaned, deep and guttural, as she felt his cock's head bump hard against her cervix.

"Fuck," Sam muttered.

"Fuck?" Stella inquired, taking more control back and forcing Sam to move in her again. When he didn't delve as deeply as she wanted, she pulled him against her again, with force. "I want to feel you tomorrow, an ache in me, after you've gone. Fuck me good and hard."

Sam was not lost enough in the feel of her to lose his common sense. He knew how big he was, and how much hurt he could cause if just let lose. It was not in his nature to want to cause pain to his partners. One or two had liked a little discomfort, but not true pain. Even Jessica couldn't take rough fucking with him, though; they had only attempted a few times. "Are you sure?" he asked.

Stella looked directly into his eyes. "Yes. I want it. Go to town. I love hard, deep fucking—especially big cocks like yours." The truth was in her eyes, and she saw the response darken his.

Then she had to close her eyes, because Sam fucked her hard and deep, stealing her breath away. Her cries of _more, more!_ got her exactly what she wanted from him—more cock, more force, and another orgasm. He slowed down, gentled, as he felt her tighten around him, but resumed his grueling pace when she demanded it. She came around him hard a second time before it got to be a bit much. She didn't want to tell him to stop, though, because Sam seemed really into it.

"Come again for me, Sam?" she asked, arching her back and breathing deep as she fucked her. "I feel so good—but can't do this much longer without a break—and I want you to feel as good as I do." She moved to wrap her hands around his shoulders, pulling herself tightly around him.

Sam's thrusts sped up, but got shallower. She could tell he was close, just not quite there. She moaned against his neck; his breath quickened more. She bit at the cords of his neck standing out as he held himself over her; his hips stuttered. She bit harder, hard enough to bruise, and he groaned loudly. She felt his warmth in her, filling the condom, several eruptions before he stopped moving and dropped his forehead against her shoulder.

"Stella," he mumbled, clearly exhausted.

She smiled to herself. Sam was a fantastic lay; she really wanted to go for another ride in the morning. But right now they both needed a time out to get some rest. Kissing Sam deeply, Stella had to turn her head to yawn. "Let's clean up and get some sleep, Sammy."

Sam nodded, too blissed out to register (much less protest) the nickname, and rolled off to her right. She got up on rather unsteady legs to make her way to the bathroom to wash up and bring back some tissues and a wet wash cloth for Sam, who hadn't moved beyond taking off the condom. Stella tied it off and wrapped it in the tissues, leaning over to toss it in the wastebasket before turning back to clean Sam gently off.

Tossing the messy cloth back in the direction of the bathroom, Stella curled up next to Sam. When she reached to pull the bed linens over them, Sam wrapped his long limbs around her and pulled her tight to him. For a large man, hard muscles and all, Sam was surprisingly cuddly. Stella didn't usually do the snuggling thing, but Sam practically demanded it in his sleep. His even breathing and subtle warmth next to her allowed Stella to relax enough for deep sleep to claim her.

 **D &S/D&S/D&S**

The pounding on Stella's door woke Sam before her. As he groggily sat up, Dean's "I gotta thank you, Stel—those two girls were FUN!" woke her as well. Rising and pulling a robe on, Stella shook her head. "Go back to sleep. I'll deal with up and at 'em boy."

Sam laid back down, but kept his ears open. In his happy mood, Dean's voice was clear through the wooden door to the living room. "You scheming woman," Dean chuckled. "I'd kiss you for setting me up with those two last night, but I think I know where your mouth has been."

Stella closed and locked the door behind Dean. "Is that coffee?" she asked, trying to steal it.

"Yes. One for you—cream and sugar on the side, so you can doctor it the way you like—and a one with a double expresso shot for Sammy." Dean threw himself down on her sofa, put his boots up on her coffee table, and shouted for his brother. "Yo, Sammy! We got to hit the road! Bobby called!"

Grumbling, Sam sat up and looked for his clothes. Linens were bunched at the bottom of the bed, but boxers and t-shirt were nowhere to be found. He wasn't functioning well enough to search for them, yet, and went out to get his coffee.

"I see you two had a good night," Dean was leering at Stella in her sheer, short robe, and didn't see Sam's nakedness before Sam located his jeans and pulled them on. Dean was also not prepared for the punch to his shoulder from Sam. "What?" Dean asked.

"You have no manners," Sam muttered as he claimed his coffee.

"It's not like I haven't seen it before, Sammy," Dean raised en eyebrow, waiting to see what sort of reaction that would get from Sam. Some days Dean was still amazed that they grew up together and yet were so different on things, like casual sex.

The reaction came from Stella, though. "And you will behave if you ever want to see it again," she firmly stated, sipping the coffee like it was manna from heaven.

Sam was a little shocked at her matter-of-fact answer, although Dean just laughed. Turning to Dean, enjoying Sam's reaction just a little too much, Stella raised her own eyebrow. "Unless you don't _**want**_ to see it again, Dean?"

"I would never turn down an invitation to see such as beautiful woman naked," Dean smiled back at Stella, while Sam sucked back about a half-cup of coffee to buy some time to consider a comment. Stella simply chuckled to herself as she stirred in sugar, watching both boys. What a pair; each was a lot of fun, in his own way. Maybe, if she could get them to hang around a little longer… "How about I fix us some breakfast before you hit the road?" Stella suggested.

"Bacon and eggs?" Sam perked up.

"Home fries, too?" Dean asked, his voice in a wheedling tone.

Stella shook her head. "Home fries, too, if you want. Let me get those started, then I'll jump in the shower. You two can take turns and be all clean in time to sit down and eat."

"You are too kind, Stella." Sam got up and kissed her cheek, heading to her kitchen to toss his now empty coffee cup into the trash.

"Don't think this is all me being nice, Sam," Stella got up as well. "I'd like to make sure you boys remember to stop by on your next visit through town. And I was hoping…well, you'll need a hearty breakfast to keep your stamina up."

At Sam's deer-in-headlights look, and Dean's smirky raised eyebrow, Stella gave a throaty chuckle. "You talk amongst yourselves while I shower. Food's on offer no matter the answer."

Sam had a little trouble formulating the question he now wanted to ask, but as always, Dean could read his mind and cut through the bull much faster than him. "You little minx. All three of us, together?"

"Dean, you went home with two girls last night. I didn't think you would have a problem with this." Stella walked over to Sam, and pulled his face so that he was looking into her eyes. "I wasn't sure how you would feel about this, though."

Sam's mind went a little into overload. "You want us—me, and him—together—with you?"

"Well, yes. Dean's a helluva lot of fun….and you are delicious….and why not?" Stella shrugged. "I won't be offended if you say no, Sammy. I understand its not everyone's cup of tea." Stella began pulling off her t-shirt, never mind the two men in the room, and heading for the bathroom. "You can think it over as long as you need to. I'm going to shower."

Stella matter-of-factly changed grabbed her towel and shut the door behind her.

Dean was studying Sam intently. This was not an area of their relationship that had ever been tested. "Just how much do you like Stella, college-boy?" Dean asked. He knew Sam didn't usually do casual sex—so this could be a problem, if his feelings for Stella were more than just physical—plus, if Sam didn't do causal sex, Dean wasn't really sure Sam could handle a threesome.

Sam leaned against the living room wall and slid down until he was sitting. "She's fun. I'd really like to have sex with her again. I'm not in love with her."

"She apparently would really like to have sex again, too, Sammy," Dean leered and then looked away. "With both of us."

Sam looked perturbed. "I don't know about you, but I have never—"

Dean met his brother's eyes. "Not two guys and a girl, no, me neither."

A few minutes of silence followed, interrupted by Dean. "We deal with shit that breaks the rules of the world all the time, and a three-way is what freaks us out. What pussies."

Sam laughed. "I'm not exactly freaked out. Trying to figure out how this would work-"

"I'm not into guys like that," Dean quickly countered.

"And you automatically think I am?" Sam shot back.

"You're the one that went off to college. Who the hell knows what you did there," Dean pushed, needling his younger brother.

"You're my brother, dude, even if I was into guys." Sam looked perturbed. "And I'm not."

"But you are into Stella," Dean reminded him.

"This doesn't weird you out at all?" Sam asked.

"Maybe," Dean shrugged. "But I know how hot Stella is. Hot really balances out the weird feeling a bit."

Sam agreed. "But its still a little weird."

"Well Stella is right about one thing. A shower sounds like a good idea right about now." Dean gathered a towel and stripped to his boxer-briefs before heading to the smaller bathroom.

Sam poured himself another cup of coffee and sat down to wait for a free bathroom. Whether they stayed or not, he stank of sex, and really didn't want to have to smell himself on the road. Sam always had been the thinker, over-thinker really. Stella was fun. Stella was hot. Stella wanted to do something that was really off the charts hot. Well, if it was another girl and not Dean, it would be hotter, but this was pretty damn hot. Their life really didn't follow many rules, all sacrificed to the Hunt. Why not bend one where it was to their own benefit, and not for the greater good?

And that was where Sam's mind was when Stella came out of her bedroom, freshly showered, smelling sweet and damp, clad in nothing but a tight white wife beater and matching boy shorts.


	2. Chapter 2

**FIC TITLE** : Smalltown Stella

(Thank Lou Reed lyrics for a title.)

 **Author** \- PTBvisiongrrl

 **Part-** 2/?

 **Date-** 1/2/16

 **Rating** – M/NC-17

 **Pairings/Characters** \- No Wincest—but plenty of other sex and a threesome (Dean/OFC/Sam)

 **Word Count-** 2,203

 **Genre-** PWP

 **Warnings-** If PWP or M/F/M threesome will offend you, click back now.

 **Spoilers-** Not really. I have only seen through Season 5 and this is largely AU. Place it sometime in Season One.

 **Disclaimers-** _New to the fandom, though not fanfiction, so characters may be a little off._ _Unfortunately, I don't own any of these characters, and make absolutely no profit from taking them out to play…so please don't sue me. If I did own them, there would be a lot more shirtless Jensen Ackles getting some on the show!_

 **Summary-**

Dean had the girl before. Sam gets the girl this time. The girl wants both boys next time. Not a lot of plot here.

Chapter 2

Sam was still thinking, considering, and going back and forth when Stella emerged from her bedroom, showered and freshly dressed. She grabbed an apron off a hook in kitchen area and tied it on, glancing at Sam but studiously not meeting Sam's eyes. She began gathering pans and ingredients, slicing and dicing, waiting for Sam to head towards her shower. When he continued to stare off into space, Stella made a little more noise. When Sam still didn't react, she stopped what she was going and made her way over to Sam.

Kneeling down next to him, she nudged him with her elbow. "Time to get clean, big boy," she said suggestively, snapping him out of his daze.

Sam startled, nodding and trying to avoid Stella's eyes. Before Sam could rise, Stella grabbed his chin and forced him to meet her gaze. "I hope I didn't break you, Sammy," she said kindly.

He shook his head, shyly smiling. "No, not at all. I'm just-"

"Thinking?" Stella asked.

"Uh, yeah," Sam admitted.

"Why does my request require so much thinking?" Stella gave a small, sexy pout.

Sam tilted his head to the side. "Not sure. It really shouldn't, should it?"

"Most men wouldn't think twice," Stella admitted. "Of course…the fact that you have to really think about this. Well, its kinda hot." Stella stood back up, heading back into the kitchen. "Makes you extra special. Anything I can do to help you reach a decision?"

And that's when Sam realized that Stella wasn't exactly the issue here.

"Is this something you do often?" Sam asked.

"Making breakfast?" Stella laughed. "Yes. Two guys at once? Not as often, but not unheard of. Usually it's a guy and a girl; sometimes a husband and wife." Stella snuck a look at Sam's face at that comment, tracking his reaction. "Two brothers? Nope, haven't done that before."

"Why?" Sam asked.

"Why do I have sex with women?" Stella played dumb to rile Sam. "Why do you? Boobs."

Sam laughed as she had intended, before getting serious again. "Why do you want us both at once?"

Stella sighed. Maybe she had miscalculated, misread Sam. Damn. "I really like sex, lots of kinds of sex. And this is a small town. If I want to live here, I can't really fuck around here. Sorta the whole don't shit where you eat thing, y'know? But I've always had a high sex drive. My husband…did not mind. Liked it a lot, actually, especially when he watched. So did I." Stella resumed cooking to make things seem more normal. "You are a tasty morsel, and I would love to have more time with you. And like I said, Dean is a ton of fun, too. You two seem close—"

"Ah, not THAT close!" Sam jumped to answer.

Another sigh from Stella. "Yeah, no, that's not what I meant. Threesomes are much more fun for me if my partners are comfortable with each other. If you two can hunt together—and basically live in each other's pockets—successfully, I thought you'd be able to play together, too. I mean, nothing kills the mood of double penetration more than one guy suddenly freaking out his cock is that close to another guy's."

Sam had to remember to breath.

Returning to preparation of their massive breakfast, Stella chuckled to herself. "So, the problem is not sex with me and someone else. Its Dean that's the problem."

Sam bit his lip and shrugged. "Maybe?"

"Why?" Stella fired back, cracking eggs into the frying pan.

"He has spent a large portion of his life embarrassing me," Sam stated. "Dean is a master at it. He can make me feel like I'm an idiot with a look. And this is something I am already nervous about, so yeah."

Stella smiled at him, sympathetic, as she continued to cook. "Well, that's one worry I can't help you with. But I can certainly understand it. At least we can enjoy breakfast together?"

"Of course," Sam stopped hesitating and made a beeline for Stella, wrapping his arms around her and brushing a kiss against the nape of her neck. "I'm going to shower now, though."

"Good plan. You are a little…rank." Stella said just as they heard Dean's shower shut off. "I'll make sure to defend some food for you while you shower."

Sam managed a real laugh as he escaped to Stella's bedroom just in time for Dean to enter the room, steam billowing around him. "Food smells awesome, Stel!" he bellowed, heading straight to the now-full coffee maker on the counter and pouring himself a mug.

Stella studied Dean with a raised brow. "Knowing how and what you eat, honey, I'm not sure how complimentary that compliment actually is."

"I am hurt," Dean mimed chest pain. "It was meant sincerely, sweetheart."

"Uh-huh. You ever notice how sometimes your compliments come across as a little…smarmy? Insincere?" Stella needled Dean a little. "Smug, even?"

Dean reached around Stella to snag a piece of toast as it popped up from the toaster. "Talking to Sammy while I was in the shower, huh?"

"Maybe," Stella answered.

"Sorry," Dean shrugged. "I'm still open to some Stella-time, y'know."

"He didn't say no, yet," Stella plated some eggs, potatoes, and more toast up for Dean and handed it to him.

"Honestly, I'd be surprised if he says yes," Dean muttered through his food.

"Manners, please!" Stella shot at him. "Damn hunters think no rules apply to them. Common courtesy is still appreciated."

Dean looked abash. "Yes'm," he forced out AFTER he swallowed and without shoveling in more food. "Just saying, I'm shocked Sammy went home with you to begin with. Not exactly his usual MO. I was glad, though—boy needs to get out more, lives too much in his head."

Stella smiled and sat down with her own plate of food. "Oh, I got him out of his head last night."

Dean cocked an eyebrow at her, pausing for a moment to talk before shoveling in another forkful. "I will take your word on that. Still, I'm a little surprised by your…proposition."

"Certainly not that I made it?" Stella asked, eating as well but much more daintily.

"No. But-" Dean plunked his fork down and sat back. "You and I have fun, Stella, a LOT of fun. And if you had wanted me, you woulda had me last night. You know this. You sent me over to those girls with intent. So why today?"

"Wanted a taste of him, last night. Already had you." Stella sat back as well and sipped her coffee. "Today? I like threesomes, but threesomes can have…issues. Especially with two guys. I thought you and Sam are close enough that you could handle it better than the average hot guys. That's it."

Dean nodded. "Okay. I'm in. Bobby's job can wait a day for some R & R."

"Well, let Sam eat and wrap his head around it." Stella chuckled. "For a hunter, that boy is sheltered."

"Tell me about it," Dean cackled. "Boy won't even go to a titty bar!"

Dean and Stella met eyes and simultaneously shook their head, muttering, "College boy."

 **D &S/D&S/D&S**

Sam stripped down and started running water hot enough to immediately cloud the mirror. He stepped in and stood under the spray, allowing it to wash away the remains of last night's carnal activities. His body ached, but pleasantly so, like a fond muscle memory. His body certainly wouldn't mind a repeat of last night with Stella.

But it wouldn't be a repeat. It would be a sequel. With character changes and improvisation.

And Sam knew how rarely sequels ended up being worth it.

Of course, some sequels were better than others. Some rare sequels were better than the original. Like Star Wars. The original sequels, not the prequel/sequels.

Stella could be Star Wars. Sam really, really liked Star Wars.

Stella was hot. Last night was amazing. He was intrigued by the possibilities presented with Stella's offer, tempered by the consideration of mechanics. He was not bothered by being naked in front of his brother; they had lived in such close quarters for, well, their entire lives, that normal boundaries were looser for them than for most. Nakedness was not his concern.

Dean's abrasiveness, however, might be. Sam had spent a great deal of his youth being corrected by Dean. Learning to shoot with precision—to throw knives accurately in a fight—to chose the particular technique to disable an opponent as quickly and deadly as possible—none of that had come as easy to Sam as it had to Dean. And when Sam had not done whatever the task was well, Dean had dissected Sam's choices with a precision scalpel of sarcasm. Dean's words had never veered toward attack on him personally, his intelligence or rationality—unlike training with his Dad, who assumed each and every mistake was a deliberate challenge to Dad's teaching. Dean, however, tended to mock those things NOT part of the situation.

Like calling his hair girly. Or referring to Sam as Samantha. The snark dropped into regular conversation, subtly, without a huge red flag saying "You suck and here's why."

And somehow, those words seemed to worm their way into Sam's brain and do more damage. Sam loved his brother—and Dean had taken care of him forever, been more than father and mother at points—but Sam still felt like the little brother, even though he was bigger and fully capable, largely due to Dean's natural and unwavering assumption of the superior role.

And that, that was the sticking point. Not a new issue in their relationship, honestly, just clarified by the situation.

Maybe begin a resolution with this particular situation? This would be a totally new and different playing field, no imminent death or end of the world ramifications, as neutral as the Winchester brothers could probably ever expect.

That was the tipping point. Sam was in.

Drying off, Sam studied his reflection in the mirror. He scrubbed at the light stubble on his chin, wondering if Stella would mind it. He hoped she wouldn't, because he really didn't want to waste the time to search his gear for a razor and actually shave. Now that Sam had decided to join in, he'd rather not give himself any more time to change his mind. Again.

 **D &S/D&S/D&S**

The click of Stella's bedroom door opening caught both Stella and Dean's attention, though only Stella allowed it to show. "Hey, baby brother. Managed to save you a platter."

"Hey! You said there wasn't any more bacon, Stel!" Dean jokingly protested.

"For you," Stella shot back. Rising, she put her own plate into the sink and reached into the oven to bring Sam his food. "Sammy hasn't eaten his, yet."

Sliding into the empty seat in front of his plate, Sam inhaled deeply, opting to ignore the nickname in favor of food. "This smells so good, Stella!" he managed to get out before he answered the siren call of breakfast and shoveled it in.

Dean finished his food as well, accepting another cup of coffee from Stella as she cleared his empty plate. When Dean tried to eye a third helping, Stella shook her head no. "I don't want you too full just yet."

Rolling his eyes, Dean sat back in his chair. "Okay. You owe me, then."

"Don't I always pay my debts, stud?" Stella smiled at him, leaning over to kiss his forehead before sitting down in her chair with her own cup of coffee.

Dean agreed with a chuckle, "Yes, you do, sweetheart."

Sam continued to eat, studying both Dean and Stella subtly, as they lightly bantered. When he rose and took his plate over to the sink himself—he was a guest, but he didn't expect to be waited on—he turned and leaned back against the counter, rather than return to the table. "So, I'm in."

The room stuttered into silence for a beat or five. Stella smiled brightly, shooting Dean a raised eyebrow. "I'm happy to hear that."

Dean grunted and sucked back some more coffee. "You shoulda put money on that one, Stel. I woulda taken that as a sure bet."

"You'd bet against me?" Sam asked, rolling his eyes. "Glad I can still surprise you, Dean."

Dean shrugged, leaning back. "This is not exactly your normal, Sam."

"No, its not." Sam raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes some strange is good for you. I think that's a direct quote from you."

Stella laughed, hearty and full. "Yes it is," she agreed. "Of course, its even better with some ground rules."

Dean dropped his head. "Oh, no. We need to talk? Really? Not sexy. Not sexy at all, Stel."

Stella smiled sweetly at Dean, rising to wrap an arm around Sam's waist and snuggle into him. "I've done this before; have you?"

Dean shrugged. "Not exactly."

"And how many of your threesomes have ended with all parties still talking?" Stella asked.

Dean frowned. "You win. Fine. Destroy the hot porn with a chick flick moment."

"Chick flick moments usually proceed the hottest porn, Dean," Stella shot back. "We need to talk this out first, set some ground rules."

"Such as?" Sam asked, and Dean cocked his head to the side to listen.

Stella flicked her eyes back and forth between the two men, glad that they seemed to be letting her lead. "Its safe, sane, and consensual. This is about fun and feeling good, so the rules reflect that. First and foremost, and non-negotiable- yes can become no at any point, without any recriminations from the other two."

Stella felt Sam let out a slight breath in relief. "If at any time its too much, we use a safe word to slow down, take a moment, and another to stop completely and immediately."

"Safe words?" Dean smirked. "Just what are you into, Stella?"

"General protocol, Dean. Whips, chains and handcuffs are not a prerequisite for safe words. Better to have it and not use it then not have it and need it." Stella pulled on Sam's leaning form to lead him back to a seat at her table. "Do you boys have safe words?"

Dean shook his head. "No. Never really needed one."

Sam met Dean's eyes with a smirk. "Faust to slow down. Lovecraft to stop."

"Geek," Dean muttered, barely under his breath.

Stella smacked Dean smartly upside the head. "Respect, Dean. Just 'cause little brother is kinkier than you thought doesn't mean you get to mock him."

Rolling his eyes, but recognizing Stella's tone, Dean apologized to Sam with a shrug and quick, "Sorry!" through clenched teeth.

"You need 'em, too, Dean," Stella demanded. "Something you won't use in the bedroom accidentally. One to slow things down, pause it, at least for a moment until you decide if we are continuing it, and one to end it cold."

"Can I have a few minutes to think about them?" Dean asked.

"Of course, hot stuff," Stella agreed. "Make it something you will remember. Mine are Falstaff and Desdemona." She saw Dean stifle a response to that as well as Sam's smile and head nod at her literary geekiness. "What about absolute, no-cross lines? Things you won't consider, that would trigger a safe stop word. Better to get it out before hand than stumble across it in the middle of it all."

Neither man had a ready answer to that one. Stella shrugged, rolling her eyes a little, "Okay, I'll go first. I don't do water sports, although I have been known to squirt. I don't do shaming or verbal abuse/belittling. I don't think there are any other lines that would be a dead stop, though. I like things a little rough sometimes, but not spitting on me or hitting the face. Restraint is okay, spanking is always good, hair pulling…throat play, too. No visible marks. I'm pretty open to most things. Sam?"

"Obviously, not crossing the brother line. Total hands off." Dean shook his head adamantly in agreement, holding up his coffee cup like a toasting glass.

"I don't mind restraint if its just holding with hands or body, but no tying me down or handcuffing or stuff like that. Absolutely no blindfolds. Not that much into pain, a bite here or there is okay but nothing that will leave a mark." Sam pursed his lips and looked up at the ceiling as he thought. "Don't like ass play, at least what I've done, but its not something I would rule out."

Sam expected Dean to jump all over that, and when he didn't, Sam looked at him. The pink spreading across his freckled cheeks made Sam smirk, but he held his tongue. "Dean?" Sam asked, instead. "What's your lines?"

Stella looked just as intrigued at Dean's reaction to Sam's lines as Sam did, and waited patiently for Dean's lines, too.

Dean swallowed more coffee before licking his lips. He seemed to be considering his words carefully, taking long enough that Sam narrowed his eyes. Was this too much for Dean to go through with it?

Stella put a hand on Dean's arm, warm and solid. "If you can't tell us, we could unintentionally make this uncomfortable for you. I don't want that. Please tell us?"

Taking in a deep breath, Dean shrugged. "The usual."

When he didn't say anything more, Sam shook his head. "No. That's not enough. Either be honest, or we can't do this, Dean."

"Why not, Sammy? Talking is over rated." Dean rose and poured more coffee.

"Okay, Dean," Stella joined in on Sammy's side. "We aren't doing this. Because everyone has to be on board and on the same page for it to work. So unless you are going to share, I am stopping it here. Desdemona."

Dean let her words die out in the quiet of the room. "But I really don't have any lines, guys."

Sam blinked, owlishly, before shaking his head. "Everyone has lines, dude. There has to be some things that make you squirm."

"I don't have any lines you guys would cross. Your hard lines…work for me," Dean answered quickly.

And Sam read between the lines, and knew—and knowing, his heart hurt for Dean. His question was one word. "Hell?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Pretty much any line I had was blown to shit there. I'm not saying I enjoyed it all, but 40 years of giving and receiving torture fucked me up."

Stella's face was confused. "Hell? You've been there? And come back from it?"

"Lot of stuff I don't share, Stel, no matter how much fun you are in bed," Dean stated lowly, his voice harsh and thready. "So, yeah, I can work with your lines, and you guys don't have to worry about mine."

"Lines aren't just physical, Dean," Stella rose and made her way to Dean, to wrap her arms around him and nestle her head onto his shoulder. "No matter what you might have had done to you, what reactions that place trained you to have, doesn't mean you like it or want it. This is about what you enjoy, not what you can stand."

Dean bit the inside of his lip, and Sam could see the struggle of emotion in Dean's pools of green swim. It took a few moments and several hard swallows before Dean responded. "No restraint. I used to like it, to be tied down, but…I haven't tried it since. Couldn't ask for it anymore. I'm okay if you want it, Stella, but not for me. I don't like to cause more pain than a bite or light spanking. Definitely no dub-con or rape play, on either side. Too many memories come up. No knife play, either."

Sam's breath caught in his throat. He hadn't thought before he'd pressed Dean for an answer—he hadn't considered what hell might have done to Dean, other than the guilt he had born for the things he'd done to survive. Sam had thought Dean managed to put Hell behind him except for the occasional nightmares Sam still woke up to. For someone so into sex as Dean, to have that changed—what he liked, what he could do have done to him—so fundamentally must have been exceedingly difficult to work through. And Sam, prudish Sam, was not someone Dean would talk to about it, so that meant there was NO one Dean would have talked to about it. "I'm so sorry, Dean, I didn't think-"

Dean smiled weakly at Sam. "I didn't want you to think. I don't like to remember Hell, and I don't like to think about how it changed me. I'm different in so many ways, and even I don't know them all until it comes up."

Stella kissed Dean's neck gently, moving up to his jaw line, then his ear. "We will take care of you, Dean, as long as you tell us what you need."

"Okay," Dean agreed. "I trust you both. Safe words- Crowley and Alistair."

Sam's reaction to those told Stella that it was not a literary thing, but she refrained from asking. The mood of the room had gone from playful to dark too quickly and deeply, and she knew it would have to be salvaged quickly if the day were to work out as she had originally wanted. "So we have safe words and lines established. Why don't you two relax and digest while I do up the dishes?"

Dean nodded his assent, yelling "Getting my gear!" while heading out to the Impala. Orgy or not, the Winchesters would be prepared for any supernatural interruption with some weapons, salt, and holy water. Plus that's where the lube and condoms were, and he didn't want to have to interrupt for a supply run later.

As soon as the door slammed shut behind him, Stella was at Sam's side. "Is he going to be okay with this? I had no idea…"

"Me, either," Sam frowned. "I didn't think—really didn't know—that he was dealing with this type of shit. But if he says he is, he is. It might actually help him some to go through with this."

Stella agreed. "But first, dishes. Then, reestablish the mood. Go watch some TV."

Sam agreed, settling on the sofa before picking up the remote and finding something mindless and fun, waiting for Dean's return. The sound of dishes clinking and the splash of water was almost comforting in the background, driving out visions of Hell and torture.


	3. Chapter 3

**FIC TITLE** : Smalltown Stella

(Thank Lou Reed lyrics for a title.)

 **Author** \- PTBvisiongrrl

 **Part-** 3/4

 **Date-** 6/27/16

 **Rating** – M/NC-17

 **Pairings/Characters** \- No Wincest—but plenty of other sex and a threesome (Dean/OFC/Sam)

 **Word Count-** 2,203

 **Genre-** PWP

 **Warnings-** If PWP or M/F/M threesome will offend you, click back now.

 **Spoilers-** Not really—Dean is back from Hell, but other than that AU.

 **Disclaimers-** _New to the fandom, though not fanfiction, so characters may be a little off._ _Unfortunately, I don't own any of these characters, and make absolutely no profit from taking them out to play…so please don't sue me. If I did own them, there would be a lot more shirtless Winchesters getting some on the show!_

 **Summary-**

Dean had the girl before. Sam gets the girl this time. The girl wants both boys next time. Not a lot of plot here.

Chapter 3

Dean didn't take as long at the Impala as Sam had suspected he would, but still longer than it should have taken to just grab a bag. A quick look out the window from behind the curtain, careful not to be caught spying, showed Dean leaning against the side of Impala, staring off at nothing in particular. Sam let the drapery fall back into place, giving Dean five more minutes before checking on him again. The second check found Dean slamming the trunk closed, bag slung over his shoulder and full forward momentum headed toward Stella's door. Whatever internal, Hell-related conflict Dean was struggling with seemed to have been dealt with—or at least had the patented "I'm okay!" Winchester façade slapped firmly down over it.

After tossing his bag into the bedroom, Dean stopped at the sink behind Stella, wrapping his arms around her waist. He pressed his mouth to the nape of her neck, gently biting and grinding into her until she put a firm stop to it. "I'm never going to finish the dishes if you keep distracting me, Dean," she scolded, slopping suds onto the floor when her knees went weak and she leaned too hard on the sink. "Go away for now!"

Dean stepped back, and after a swift smack to her ass brought a dark frown to her face, raised hands in surrender. "Whatever you want, hot stuff!" he smirked as he made his way to the sofa and settled in on an end. Both Winchesters pretended to lose themselves in some bad TV show, half-listening to the domestic clinks and clashes of dishes, glasses, and silverware but absolutely aware of the room. Hunters never rest—unless they are so drunk off their asses that they pass out. That heightened awareness just isn't something one can turn off and on.

Stella finished the dishes, tidying up the counter and pushing in chairs, before taking off the apron to settle onto the sofa between the boys. Surveying the battlefield, Stella burrowed herself between their muscular bulk, sinking into the sofa's soft cushions while considering tactics. Given the heavy ending to their sexual negotiation, Stella decided to softball it. She reclined, laying her head in Dean's lap and her legs across Sam's. She studied them, waiting for their attention, easing into the situation.

Eyes never leaving the images on the screen, but the corner of his full lips quirking up, Dean leaned back to get more comfortable. Sam felt the sofa shift, and a similar small smile played across his face. Working almost in tandem, Dean started running his fingers through Stella's long hair, gentling massaging tight neck muscles. Sam gently rubbed her knees (sure they must be at least a little sore from last night's workout). It felt wonderful—Stella really enjoyed hands on her, even just touching skin without any immediate sexual intent. The callouses and rough skin of a working man's hands did more for her than any smooth, moisturized metrosexual's. She relaxed into the boys' warm heat, reveling in their roving hands, and vocalized her contentment with light sounds of satisfaction.

Stella practically purred, gathering further attention, hands pressing more firmly into tight muscles. She could feel proof of their interest pressing up against her reclining body—Sam firm and thick against her calf, Dean hot and hard against her shoulder blade. She shifted, pressing further down into their laps with mild squirming, trying to elicit more of a reaction.

Dean reacted first, finally giving up looking at whatever was on the screen (she was entirely unsure what it was and had no interest in it anyway) to study Stella's eyes. The storm of earlier had receded, the bright green of Dean's eyes clear save simple lust as they telegraphed his intentions. Leaning down, Dean kissed her. Dean was just as good at it as she remembered, nimble lips pressing against hers and forcing her mouth open to accept his tongue. He explored her mouth thoroughly, hand wrapped against her neck and forcing her to the angle he needed to delve deeper and harder. Her whimpering response was not under her conscious control, nor was the grip of her fists in his shirt, trying to pull him closer yet.

Sam, studying the two of them but not hesitating, shifted the focus of his hands to roam up long legs and began to toy with the edges of her boy shorts. Stella was so engrossed in Dean's kiss that she didn't even realize what Sam was doing until Sam slid out from under her and then down to his knees on the floor next to the couch. When Stella felt his form slip away, his hands wrapped around her waistband and trailed down her heated skin, flimsy cotton blend following with an easy slide. She reached for Sam, only to have Dean grab her under the shoulders and shift her up a bit, twisting her to meet his mouth. The movement caused her legs to fall open, allowing Sam to dip down and go to work, mouthing and licking up her inner thighs but not quite where she wanted his attention.

Dean swallowed her vocal protest. Stella forced herself to break off from Dean, looking down at Sam and pleading, "Please, Sammy!"

Dean swatted Stella's hip. "Hey! Attention up here!" Dean's clear green eyes were dark, pupils wide, when he met Stella's unfocused gaze. Then he spoke to Sam. "Sammy, go to town like she's an all you can eat buffet."

It was a testament to Stella that Sam didn't even bat an eye at being ordered by his big brother, something he thought could be resolved with this exercise. But honestly, that was what Sam wanted to do anyway, so he went with it. Sliding hands beneath her, Sam lifted Stella up to press his mouth against her slickness, separating folds and delving in forcefully with his tongue. Stella's whimpers, even muffled by Dean's mouth, made Sam work harder and faster on her sensitive skin, licking around her clit in a figure eight until she broke.

Dean swallowed Stella's orgasm, forcing her to stay with him even as she tried to catch her breath. As soon as she struggled against him, trying to turn her mouth away, he gripped her neck harder to keep her in place. Dean felt harsh puffs of air force themselves into his mouth as she lost focus. He held her there just a brief few seconds more than she was comfortable—he could feel her want to try to escape, feebly but without real need—before he let go and allowed her to fill her lungs with cool, fresh air.

Eyes still closed, Stella shook as she tried to catch her breath. This breath-type play made her melt. Sam and Dean were very talented, and for this being a first time together, they worked seamlessly. Less than ten minutes and she had already experienced one Earth-shattering orgasm. Fuck she was thankful they had agreed to a threesome. When Stella could speak, she opened her eyes to find both boys studying her, trying to ascertain if she was good or not.

"Doing okay, Stel?" Dean inquired, studying her carefully, fingers gently stroking down her cheek.

Stella smiled weakly, looking down to make sure Sam saw as well before replying. "Hells, yes. I, uh, really liked that, Dean."

Sam quirked an eyebrow up, "Dean, huh?"

Stella chuckled. "Of course you, too, Sam. Awesome orgasm," she panted out, "and made even better by not letting me up to breathe," she explained.

"You really like breath play, huh?" Sam asked.

Stella raised her head to meet Sam's eyes. "Fuck, yes. I could come just from that alone. Factor in your mouth…you are lucky I didn't pass out."

Dean and Sam looked at each other; Stella could practically hear their plotting over her reclined form. Dean smirked, but Sam was the one who spoke. "You could come just from that alone?"

Sam's words felt like a challenge accepted. He raised an eyebrow at Dean, shifting his stance so that while his mouth went right back where it was, one of his large hands slid up Stella's torso to tease the left side of her neck.

Dean's hand, not as large as Sam's but still easily large enough to cup her face from cheek to back of her head, wrapped itself around to hold her down for more kisses. Playful whisper touches on her neck served to ratchet up her responses, the psychological taunt intensifying the physical sensations. Stella knew Dean, and now Sam, were good guys. They were safe. Not that they weren't dangerous, when needed, but not to her. She could tell they would not harm her without her permission, and neither man would ever really want to truly harm her, regardless. Stella could enjoy the sharpness of the danger they had her dancing on the edge of without fear.

Both men pressed down against her throat, simultaneously. The lack of air, the pressure she felt building against her windpipe…the spots swimming at the edges of her vision as she felt the need to breathe, air needed to groan her satisfaction with Sam's oral manipulations and Dean's mouth. But she couldn't, because between Dean and Sam's hands on her throat, she couldn't take in enough air to do more than lay there and enjoy herself. Still sensitive from her first orgasm, Stella found her vision graying out more quickly this time, causing her to squirm a bit more forcefully against the boys' restraining hands.

Neither Sam nor Dean let go completely, but both lessened the pressure enough for a deep breath, which turned into Stella shuddering through a deep moan of pleasure and coating Sam's face with a layer of moisture.

"Oh, you dirty girl," Dean chuckled, running his hand down her body, through the valley of her breasts to dip between her thighs to investigate just how wet she was. "You weren't kidding about squirting."

Sam wiped his face with the t-shirt he was still wearing. "That was hardly squirting, Dean. I think we can make Stella do better than that."

Stella agreed with a breathless nod. "That really isn't anything compared to what I can do when I'm really worked up…"

"Really?" Dean asked, a determined look on his face now.

"I've been known to soak a bed, hot stuff." Stella wiggled her hips a little. "After five or six…or ten orgasms. Not with everyone, but more than a few."

"Sounds like a dare," Dean answered, calloused finger tips dragging slowly against Stella's clit in lazy circles.

"Triple dog," Stella laughed back, enjoying the motion of his digits.

When two of Sam's long fingers slipped inside her, spending a few moments gently exploring her channel before zeroing in on the spongy bundle of nerves and pressing against it in rhythm with Dean's motions, she threw her head back, eyes closing against her will. Her legs opened further, baring her delicate center even further.

The boys stopped her short of orgasm, though, much to her irritated frustration. "No! Don't stop!" she begged.

Dean's deep growl, drawl more evident than usual, echoed in her ear. "You are not in charge right now, Stel. Two big, strong men are with you here. You are going to do what you are told to do. We promise, it will be worth swallowing your pride and admitting that you can't stop us."

Sam seconded Dean's remarks. "We aren't going to hurt you- much. But you like the thought that we could even more than if we actually did, don't you, Stella?" Trust Sam, smart college boy, to read between her psychological lines so easily.

And she was absolutely fucked, and wrecked, and came again just from their tone. Because Stella really did like that thought, the coiled danger and grace that skirted beneath their skin and pressed against her vulnerability. Pressing it, she struggled just a little, just enough to show that the Winchesters did not have her full compliance just yet.

Dean's hand pressed hard against her jugular, enough to reduce blood flow (and oxygen) but not enough to send her out. Sam slapped his wide palm against her pussy, fast and hard and vicious, three times, and that was all it took. Stella shuddered through yet another orgasm, wet and slippery, audibly splashing with the third hard hit.

Sam dropped to lean his forehead against hers. "Fuck, Dean. She really liked that. I think there's a wet spot on the sofa now." He held up his hand, so wet it was dripping off his fingers.

"You certainly do not exaggerate, Stel," Dean chuckled, testing her slickness for himself yet again and then licking his fingers while she watched. "Let's move this into the bedroom," he directed.

Sam slid his arms under Stella's ass and shoulders and hauled her up tight against his chest. Rising from his knees, he lifted her without visible effort, following Dean into Stella's bedroom. Again, the reigned-in strength, the ability to do her harm if he so chose to….she was a seriously disturbed woman, she knew, but these boys hit all the right buttons for her.

Dean was steps ahead and entirely more lucid than either Sam or Stella in that moment. He headed into the attached bathroom and retrieved a towel, opening it and laying it down in the middle of the bed. "No one wants the wet spot," he smirked, indicating where Sam should place Stella.

Laying down on the far side of the bed after shucking off his boots, outer button down and t-shirt, but leaving jeans still on, Dean faced Stella. He pulled her tank top up and off before running his right hand up and down her bared side gently. He asked, "Where are the restraints?" There was no hesitation in his tone, no uncertainty.

Sam, still stripping, was a bit surprised by Dean's question. But apparently Stella brought out some of the old, pre-Hell Dean with her genuine enjoyment. It would be nice if she could help Dean get passed some of those issues.

"Bottom drawer, your night stand," Stella answered, breathing speeding up. Sam could see her muscles relaxing into anticipation. She really did like this.

Rolling off the bed, Dean dropped to his knees to study the contents of the drawer. "Oh, Stella," he smiled up at her and then looked to Sam. "She's a bad, bad girl, Sam. Wide range of choices here."

Sam raised an eyebrow, settling on the other side of Stella and immediately reaching to play with her nipples while answering. "How restrained do we want her?" Sam was willing to let Dean set the parameters, since he was the one uncomfortable with bondage these days.

Dean answered with his own raised eyebrow, voice deep enough to sound dangerous. "I know how far I'd like to go with it. I need to know how far you'd be comfortable." Knowing the idea turned Stella on made Dean itch to try these things out, and having Sam there made him feel safe enough to do it. Sam wouldn't let Dean go too far, wouldn't let him actually hurt Stella even if Dean flashed back. And Dean missed it.

Sam heard the unspoken sentiment. Dean was troubled by Hell, but not just because he had tortured as well as had been tortured. There were things that Dean had enjoyed before Hell, which Hell had refined for him. Tying a willing girl down—as well as being tied down himself, depending on his mood—had more than done it for him before. But Alistair had taught him a great deal about effective bondage, more than he had known before, and Dean had really enjoyed parts of it. The fact that Dean had, well, it was obvious to Sam that it made Dean feel uncomfortable.

"I'm honestly not sure," Sam answered, continuing to pinch and tug Stella's nipples while talking over her as if she wasn't there. Being used and ignored like that seemed to really excite her. "I'm willing to let it go, and tell you if its gets to be too much."

Dean licked his lips and nodded, turning back to the drawer. "Alright," he answered, rooting around, picking up items and discarding them, never raising them enough for Sam or Stella see his considerations. A few minutes later, Dean pulled out a bundle of black rope and placed it on the bed. "You good with this, Stel?"

Stella, whose eyes had closed against Sam's manipulations, forced them open after a few flutters to see what Dean had on offer. Her eyes slid closed, smile wide, when she saw Dean's choice. "Fuck, yes. I bet you boy scouts know some great knots."

Sam felt Stella's answer in his gut. Desire coiled hot and tight, low in his belly. Leaning over, he dropped his voice and let his assertiveness wash over her. "Roll over. Keep your face to the left, arms behind you."

Stella immediately complied, Dean vocalizing his appreciation for her quick submission. "Good girl," he growled, rising to climb on the bed and straddle her ass. Grabbing the rope and unwinding a manageable length, Dean considered the flat plain of Stella's back, the light muscling flexing in anticipation of whatever Dean came up with.

Sam tried to be patient, but as Dean's hesitation stretched into long minutes, Sam felt the need to intervene. A quick glance showed that Dean wasn't freaking out, and seemed okay. He wasn't lost in his head, he was just trying to decide what flavor of pervert he wanted to be just then. Sam reached across and crossed Stella's arms so that her forearms were parallel and her hands cupped her elbows.

Dean cracked an evil smile. "Good idea, Sammy," was all he said before weaving the black silk rope between, around, and through her arms in an intricate pattern, like something out of Japanese bondage porn.

The contrast of the deep black against Stella's paleness, her absolute stillness in letting Dean do what he wanted to her, made Sam painfully hard. Knowing what was waiting for him—the feel of her flesh against him, tensing and slick around his cock, her hot mouth swallowing him down again… Yeah, this was so doing it for Sam. Dean's presence was not a hindrance, at all.

And then Dean continued to wrap Stella in rope, making the criss-crossing around her torso tight enough to pink her paleness. As he got further up her body, Dean rose on his knees and flipped Stella so that he could position the rope to squeeze against her breasts tightly, forcing her D-cups to overflow the open spaces between and her nipples to point straight up. Her breasts jiggled, despise their loose caging as Dean roughly shifted her arms beneath her. Dean expected that she may be in this position for a while and didn't want her arms to fall asleep too quickly—it was inevitable, but still- so he made sure that she could lay more comfortably. Then he bent her legs at the knee, spread them wide and planted her feet against her ass, and looped more rope between her wrists and ankles to keep her that way.

Sam watched as Dean bound Stella, impressed with the skill and speed with which Dean immobilized her. Sam had to admit, seeing Stella—a strong woman, beautiful—so absolutely pliant and still, just waiting for he and Dean to take her, that he really liked where this was going.


	4. Chapter 4

**FIC TITLE** : Smalltown Stella

 **Author** \- PTBvisiongrrl

 **Part-** 4/4

 **Date-** 6/29/16

 **Rating** – M/NC-17

 **Pairings/Characters** \- No Wincest—but plenty of other sex and a threesome (Dean/OFC/Sam)

 **Word Count-** 6,124

 **Genre-** PWP

 **Warnings-** If PWP or M/F/M threesome will offend you, click back now.

 **Spoilers-** Not really—Dean is back from Hell, but other than that AU.

 **Disclaimers-** _I don't own any of these characters, and make absolutely no profit from taking them out to play…so please don't sue me. If I did own them, there would be a lot more shirtless Winchesters (and angels) getting some on the show!_

 **Summary-**

Dean had the girl before. Sam gets the girl this time. The girl wants both boys next time. Not a lot of plot here.

 **Author's Note-** This is a really long chapter—I hadn't planned it that way, but the story took longer to be told. There is no sequel currently being worked on, but I have a couple ideas bouncing around.

Chapter 4

Sam is usually a very considerate lover, a gentle giant. He is well aware of his strength and size, and that he could easily, especially with his training, cause damage and hurt. He never, ever really wanted to do that to his partner, even though some had really, _really_ wanted him to. He had felt dirty and more than a little ashamed afterwards, inevitably. Of course, other than Jess—who had NOT been into that type of play—he hadn't known most of his partners well enough (or long enough, thanks to life on the road) to discuss that type of emotion.

Stella brought out a harsher side of his sexual personality, with her ragged breath and stillness, waiting for the Winchesters to use her as they wished. It still unsettled Sam, but confronted with the opportunity, he found he could deal.

Studying Stella restrained and positioned on the bed was like reading a menu. What did he want today? Good for him food (salad), slightly bad for him (steak)…or heart attack on a plate (chicken fried steak with biscuits and sausage gravy and a side of fries)?

Dean watched Sam studying Stella. Dean could see the look in Sam's eye and knew what it would mean if he himself had that look. "You're up next, Sammy. I got to tie her up. What do you want to do with her?"

Whimpering, Stella closed her eyes to consider the possibilities-which earned her a sharp tug on a nipple from Dean and made her shudder. She let her eyes lazily close again to see what the boys would do.

Sam's fingers smoothed their way into her hair, gentle until they weren't, knotting up in the locks and grabbing her attention. "Keep those pretty eyes open, Stella. Want you to see what we are doing, want to see what we're doing to you."

Stella licked her lower lip slower. "Yes, Sam. Eyes open. Maybe if you were actually doing something other than staring at me..."

"Still full of sass," Dean chuckled, standing up from his kneeling position on the bed.

Sam nodded in agreement. "Let's give your mouth something better to do than talk back." Sam knee-walked up to the head of the bed, yanked down the zipper on his jeans, and shoved them down his thighs. He placed one hand on the wall for balance and wrapped the other around the back of Stella's neck, pulling her up to meet his cock.

A self-assured smirk that didn't part her lips and a raised eyebrow challenged Sam's statement wordlessly. Sam met her resistance with a smirk of his own, as he rubbed the head of his cock against her lips, back and forth over the breadth and width of that luscious mouth, leaving a damp path behind. "I know you want to open up for me, Stella. Why fight it?"

Stella's eyes went dark, and her mouth stayed firmly closed. Sam shook his head. "Okay, but there's only so many places nice and slick for me to fuck you…"

Dean smacked her bared pussy, forcing a pleasurable sigh to open Stella's mouth and Sam to drive in. "Don't give her too much control, Sammy. She wanted this, so do what you want." Dean took his own advice, shimmied his own jeans down enough to free himself, wrap it, and slide home without warning or asking permission. Stella was wet and tight around him, tight enough that Dean could tell just how much fun Sammy had last night. "Fuck," Dean stilled a moment once he was fully buried.

Stella moaned around Sam, the reverberations making Sam shudder. "Yeah, Stella. Let me feel how good it is."

The boys took turns pumping into Stella at either end. Sam pulled back, leaving the ridge of his cock dangling from Stella's mouth for a moment before plunging back in, not resting until his head was past the tighter barrier of Stella's throat to pause for a moment. That was the point when Dean slammed home, hard and deep—buried in as deep as he could, head brushing her cervix—and Stella moaned deeply.

Sam cursed, it felt so good, before withdrawing again to rest on her lips. He waited until Dean pumped in and out a few times, then shoved in hard and stayed, before Sam himself fucked Stella's throat five or six times in a row. Dean's answering groan told him that Stella's pussy reacted to this double fucking just as good as her mouth. It was a slow torture for Stella—Sam and Dean got much more friction and physical satisfaction from the configuration than Stella did. Stella got lost in her head, following the slow-building rhythm of Sam and Dean's pleasure, which was just as satisfying for her.

Sam crested first—thick and hot down her throat, which made her come again as well. It was Dean's turn to curse as Stella's muscles contracted hard around him, hard enough that he could not move within her until the orgasm was passed. As Sam slumped against the headboard, shuddering and muscles like liquid, Dean fucked Stella fast and furious. He lasted long enough to drive another orgasm from Stella, who whimpered prettily even as she tensed in pleasure, before letting himself go.

Dean would never say it out loud, but a girl like Stella trusting him like this—to tie her up, to use her, to let him touch her with the threat of danger he posed, even with Sam to protect her from Dean if need be…

There was a part of Dean, a very human part that had been pushed aside in Hell—out of necessity, but still had been a choice to do so—that cried in relief that he could still be something of the man he had been and not a monster carved out of the remnants. He had not hurt Stella more than she asked; he had derived pleasure from it, but not the sick, dark, unsettling pleasure Alistair had taught him in hell. It wasn't about hurting Stella, it was about pain making her feel good. Fucked up, yes, but less fucked up than most.

Hanging his head, Dean withdrew to remove the condom and tie it off. Tossing it to the trashcan that Sam hadn't even noticed, Dean allowed himself to lay beside Stella on the bed and kiss her forehead. "Thank you," was all he could manage at the moment.

Sam mimicked Dean, laying on Stella's other side, but Sam wasn't quite done yet. His long fingers drifting up and down Stella's toned stomach, tracing a path from feminine folds to neck. There were irregular detours to nipples, and lips, and belly button, but nothing urgent yet, just touching. Sam caught Dean's eye over the rise and fall of Stella's breasts. "Round two?" he asked, trying to judge how Dean was doing.

Dean nodded and sat up, turning to face Stella. "Yeah," Dean's voice was deep and gravelly, at least an octave below his normal register. Stella sighed happily and snuggled down into the bed as far as the rope allowed her. "But let's try something different. Ropes are nice, but I'd enjoy hands to be free for a bit. Okay with you, Sammy?"

"Fuck, yeah," Sam answered, watching as Dean unraveled the restraints. Ankles first, laying out Stella's legs straight and then rubbing blood flow back. Sam took over massaging to allow Dean to continue untying. The black rope left beautiful pink welts in the skin on Stella's torso, the pattern pressed into her flesh leaving no doubt how the marks had been acquired. Sam trailed his fingertips further up in Dean's path, legs revived, pressing into the deeper marks and making Stella shudder.

Dean methodically wrapped the rope up in a bundle as he worked, laying it down only to flip Stella over. Stella moaned at the movement, the man handling, and pressed her thighs together only to have them pulled apart by two hands, one per Winchester, and pinned open. "Round two will require this pussy to be wide open, Stella."

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean, waiting to be let in on the plans. Dean smiled wickedly. "The whole point of this, Sammy. This is what Stella wanted all along."

Sam nodded. "Ass or pussy?"

Stella shuddered beneath them, fantasy in reach. "No offense to either of you...but, um, if we are going to do this, would you please take the back door, Dean?"

Dean laughed, though not meanly. "Sammy too much to take back there, Stella?"

Wincing a little, Stella nodded. "Yeah, I'm afraid he might be."

Sam looked sheepish. "Sorry?"

Stella's eyes rounded. "You do not apologize for packing that much heat, Sam. I just don't want to have to worry about sitting comfortably for the rest of the week."

Grinning like a goof, oddly proud of himself—not that he had any power over the size of the dick he was born with—Sam shrugged. "I get it. And Dean already got that pussy today. I'm taking my turn."

While Dean bent down to kiss Stella, tongue and spit and loud breathing, Sam lowered himself between Stella's thighs, rubbing against her swollen lips and tender sex, growing harder by the second. Stella's hands found their way to both men's cocks, wrapping around them and pumping the Winchesters back to hardness.

As much as she enjoyed this as well, the idea of being filled and surrounded by all that muscled strength and Winchester good lucks made her wet enough to slick up her own thighs. Pulling away from Dean, looking from one to the other brother, Stella rose on her knees and turned her back to Dean. Leaning on her hands, settled onto her knees, she shook her ass at him, calling him to action.

Dean eagerly pulled on another condom, wanting inside Stella as soon as humanly possible. Dean dipped his fingers into her slick, gathering it, and rubbed her moisture against her bud until he felt she was ready for him. One finger quickly became two, and then three after scissoring her looser. Given her murmurs of please, fuck, just do it already, Dean figured she was ready enough by that point and pressed his blunt head into her.

Stella was hot as a furnace around him, smooth muscle engulfing his cock and flexing around his hardness tightly. Dean enjoyed the motions, stilling his own movement to do so. After a few minutes, Stella bucked against him, driving him further in and bringing his hands against her hips to stop her. "Give me a minute, Stel," Dean ground out. "Unless you want to wait to take us both, because, fuck!"

So Stella stilled herself, trembling with the need to be filled. "Dean," she begged, her voice ragged and on the precipice.

"Don't you dare come yet, Stella," Sam interceded, sensing that Dean needed a moment more himself.

Stella met Sam's eyes with tears in them. "I—I can't help it—"

Sam pulled her head up by her hair. "Then that's all you'll get to come today. And Dean and I will go find some other pussy that can take directions better than you."

Even Dean reacted to that tone of voice and those words, so he couldn't blame Stella. But with the clamping down of her ass on his cock, he has to recite the Latin rite in his head to keep from shooting his load then and there at her obedience. Sam looked to Dean, waiting until he could manage to move without coming. Once Dean nods, rocking into her, Sam pulled Stella upright and pressed her against Dean. Dean wrapped his arms around her, spreading her thighs wide and holding her ready for Sam.

Sam, putting on a condom of his own, watched the two of them. Stella was wrecked—her head lay back against Dean's shoulder, eyes half-open and panting, barely reacting to Dean's fingers twisting her nipples and teeth nibbling on her neck. Sam couldn't help but tell her just how beautiful she is, a sentiment quickly seconded by Dean. "The way you look, the way you give yourself to us…Stella, you are amazing. You are so beautiful, and I want you so bad…"

Dean and Sam passed Stella's mouth back and forth for a few minutes while Sam tried to calm himself down enough to last. When he was finally sure he wouldn't come like a teenage virgin the minute he pushed in, Sam grabbed her hips and slid home in one long glide. Snug against her, he signaled for Dean to pump into her. Dean panted, biting his own lip. The thin membrane separating the two Winchesters allowed them to sense the others' movement, so tightly pressed against each other that both men wondered how the hell Stella could take them both at the same time.

Stella was thinking the same thing herself, holding her breath as she adjusted to the size and girth of two very large men stretching her more than she had ever felt stretched (and that was saying something, given her sexual history and adventurous spirit). And then—both men moved in tandem, sliding out and deeply back in at the same time. Stella shattered on them, coming so hard she blacked out, just for a moment, and came to with her head lolling to the movement of both men full-out fucking her with all their strength and lust.

Stella barely had time to recover from the first orgasm when the second washed over her. She couldn't control her body, didn't want to but physically couldn't even if she did want. Stella was lost in the feeling of Sam and Dean working her hard, together. Enjoying this oddly out-of-body feeling (odd in that she feels her body, but it's like it's a foreign object she can't move), Stella can feel her third orgasm creeping up on her. It's that kind of orgasm that she can't help but crave, even as she knows it will finish her for a bit. She is tender and sore and used and turned on and fucked out, all at once and then not, as she can't help another, smaller orgasm. Tears in the extremity of pleasure and the gentle beginnings of pain, Stella found her voice to beg off, to ask Sam and Dean to use her body to chase their own orgasms, to do what they need/want to do to come, she won't break but she needs a break.

"Are you sure?" Dean questioned, working hard but not out of breath yet.

"Fuck, yes," Stella answered. "I need you two to come. Please."

The boys switched position giving Stella both a momentary reprieve and a second to worry about Sam taking her ass before discarding the concern as they simply flip her so that Sam is laying on the bed, driving up into her. Permission given like that apparently hit both boys really good—because they do use her and use her hard. Hands were all over her, pulling and pushing and manipulating. They hit a rhythm, sharing her so well, she comes again, despite her words. Her unexpected orgasm set off Sam, who pulled out after and maneuvered himself free.

Taking advantage of sudden sole possession, Dean rolled Stella onto her stomach and pinned her hard to the bed, one hand on her hip and one holding her down by her neck. Her whimpers, gasps of pleasure...she can't help herself but come again, squirting freely and copiously. Feeling that slickness hit his thighs, coat him, finished Dean, who collapsed on top of Stella for a few long minutes before Sam shoved him off.

"Let her breathe, dude."

Stella needed a break. She's not finished, no, but needs the focus to shift, she decides…onto Dean. "Thanks, Sam," she managed to wheeze out, still catching her breath. "You boys doing okay?" she asked, checking in before turning the tables.

Sam laughed, a deep rumble she feels through his entire body. "Hell, yeah."

Dean seconded that. "Awesome, Stel. Fuck that was good."

Stella managed to get her breathing under control first, and smiled. "That was awesome. Better than I hoped it would be." She rolled over, draping herself over Dean and looking back over her shoulder at Sam. "Which is why I need a little bit of a break."

Sam nodded, as did Dean. Dean got up and ambled toward the bathroom; Sam reached for a sheet to throw over them and wrapped an arm around Stella.

Stella turned around and curled into Sam. "I need a break, but…"

Sam looked at Stella, confusion in his green-gold eyes. "You are a necessary part of that equation, remember?" he asked.

Stella laughed. "I am simply suggesting… Fuck, I get off hard on restraint. Dean is good at it. I just can't conceptualize liking it that much and not being able to do it. I know why Dean couldn't, but…he did here. He feels safe enough. Do you think he'd feel safe enough yet to let me…?"

Sam shook his shaggy head. "I have no idea. But if you want to try it, I can run out and get us some food-"

"No!" Stella said sharply. "I think…Dean feels safe because he has someone here with him that he can trust absolutely. That's you. And it's nothing sexual or skeevy. That trust lets him be him. Quite frankly, if he freaked out and lost himself, you are big enough to make sure no one gets hurt. I know that has to be part of it."

Sam considered her words as he listened to the rush of water into the bathroom sink and knew the conversation had to be wrapped up quickly. "You want me here so you can tie Dean up?"

Stella pouted, knowing she could pull Sam into this. "Yes. You don't have to be involved at all, just here."

That, Sam could do. He could help Stella give Dean that part of himself back. There wasn't a lot that Sam could do to help Dean with all the baggage Dean carried from his forty years in Hell, so if he could do this…yes. Sam could manage it. "Okay," he agreed.

Stella lit up like a Christmas tree. "Thank you," she whispered before kissing Sam deep and long.

Dean walked back in and sat down, watching them. "And here I thought you needed a break, beautiful?"

Sam pulled away first. "She does. I was just keeping her warm until you got back." Sam rose and headed to the bathroom as well, leaving Stella to negotiate her desire with Dean.

Stella rose on her knees, straddling Dean's lap and pulling him into a deep kiss. It didn't go any farther than that, though—not even a little pelvic rocking, Stella was that sore. "Still not detecting a break here, Stella," Dean muttered between kisses.

"My pussy needs a break, Dean—not all of me. I want to try something, but its really not about me." Stella was even with Dean's gaze, arched across his thick thighs as she was.

"I'm almost afraid to ask," Dean stated, leaning against the headboard without breaking Stella's steady gaze.

Licking her lips, Stella stretched her arms above her head, putting on a bit of a show for Dean. Nothing wrong with buttering him up some before she makes her request. "I really liked you tying me up."

Dean chuckled, voice thick with lust. "Oh, I really like it, too, Stella. Its been a long time—and yeah, thanks."

"I want to tie you up." Stella just put it out there, baldly, hoping he wouldn't react too badly.

"Crowley," Dean forced out, keeping his voice as level as possible.

Sam came back to the room just as Dean spoke. "Just Crowley, not Alistair?"

Dean's breathe caught in his throat, and he had trouble remembering to breathe again. "Crowley."

"You used to enjoy being restrained, right?" Sam asked. It felt odd, delving into this naked and in bed—shit, it felt odd talking about this at all, but Sam held on to the fact that there was a naked woman between them.

Dean nodded brusquely. "Yeah."

"Do you miss it?" Stella asked, sympathy obvious.

Dean looked anywhere but at Stella or Sam, eyes rapidly stealing around the room until Stella caught his chin in and her hand and forced Dean to meet her gaze again. She was willing to wait until he answered or invoked Alistair, but she fervently hoped it would be the first.

Her hope was rewarded. "Yeah. I miss it. But it just won't work anymore."

"Why?" Stella pressed, causing Sam's eyes to bug out. The reason would seem to be pretty fucking obvious to Sam. "Flashbacks, or it just doesn't do it for you now?"

Dean met Sam's eyes this time. "Flashbacks. And I do not want anyone to see that. I don't trust myself not to hurt whoever I'm with."

Sam realized how well Stella had read his brother. "I can make sure you and Stella are safe, Dean. I can keep you from hurting her."

Uneven respiration, beginnings of sweat beading up on his temples, and a sudden tremble in his limbs gave Dean away. "Can you?"

"Yes," Sam promised. "I can do this for you, Dean. Let her give this back to you."

A heartbeat of silence, then five. And then, in a low, barely able to be heard tone, Dean answered, "Okay."

Stella's smile is a sultry mile wide. "Thank you, handsome." She kissed Dean hard and deep and distracted him from the sudden tension in his muscles as much as she could. Pulling away, she rose up from the bed and tugged at Dean's hip. "Scoot down a little, on your back."

Sam pulled on boxers and retreated to the chair in the corner of the room. His movement made Dean frown. "Just giving you two some space, but I'm not leaving. I'm just muscle here if needed. Okay?" Sam reassured Dean, who finally gave his silent assent by laying his head back down on the pillow.

After studying Dean splayed out for her, Stella decided to ease Dean into restraint by telling him that he cannot touch while she goes down on him. Stella knows she gives awesome head, and since Dean is a grabber….well, she banked on Dean not being able to keep his hands to himself. After all, that is part of the fun.

As expected, Dean can't help but grab her hair while she bobbed and swallowed him down. At the first tremor of his muscles moving, Stella stops, cold. The whine Dean can't help but let out told Stella that he was distressed—he was greatly enjoying it—but then he pleaded (not up to begging), "Please don't stop. I'll behave, I promise. I won't move. Just don't stop."

Stella smiled, dirty and wicked and happy, and told Dean, "Touch me again, and I'll have Sam help me restrain you."

The statement calms Dean. There is no sexual attraction there, absolutely none—simply trust and hope, and the knowledge that Dean will be safe no matter what. Dean knew that Sam COULD restrain him against his will, and would not hurt him in the process—Sam would do exactly what Stella told him to do, and no more. Dean really liked the possibility of being safely restrained. It had been so long. He liked it enough that he deliberately wrapped his hand into Stella's hair and pulled her up for a kiss, knowing what would happen.

"Oh, Dean. I told you what would happen." Stella was very happy inside. Dean was playing along just as she had hoped. "But you obviously want it to happen, don't you?"

Dean looked panicked, yet not. He wanted this, but he was so very afraid of it at the same time. Not terror, not sheer can't-breathe-can't-run fear. This was the anticipatory fear of getting on a roller coaster, of asking a pretty girl out of his league for her number—the adrenaline of facing an evenly matched opponent so that the outcome wasn't obvious. The hunger for it was there in his posture, his face, his eyes, clear as day. Still, while he acted to bring this on, Dean just can't verbalize it. He wasn't kidding when he said that he couldn't ask for this. So Stella doesn't make him.

"Kneel on the bed, facing the headboard," Stella ordered. The seductive steel in her voice gave Sam chills just listening. "Put your arms behind you, crossed at the wrist." Dean immediately complied, looking beautiful. His back was ramrod straight, his hands just above the swell of his ass. Stella adjusted his stance slightly, widening his knees, before kneeling behind him to press against his back and kiss her way down to bite his ass cheek. Nothing but Dean's obedience kept him in place.

Step one safely accomplished.

When Dean's head dropped down at her attention, Stella wrapped her hands around his wrists tightly, and squeezed. Dean did not react, other than to take in an audibly loud breath, so she continued, hands still wrapped around his wrists. Stella bit her way up Dean's back, ending with a hard, wide mouthed bite at the base of his neck. That bite made him full body shudder and press his eyes hard closed.

Sam watched Dean's face for his reaction, his shoulders for increased tension—worried that there might be a panic attack or freak out. Sam knows what Stella is doing, thinks she's doing it well…Dean is positively responding so far. Not to mention that Sam is pretty good with watching pushy Stella direct things. Sam is not going to lie to himself. He knows he's been conditioned to accept orders, and while he doesn't always want to do it, if Stella's giving them, he is more than willing. Even then, he hesitates slightly when she tells him to take over holding Dean's wrists.

"No lines crossed, here, Sammy. I just need my hands free, and I don't Dean will be able to hold position himself," she reassured them both that she won't cross any lines. Stella needs her hands free, though, and wants Dean immobile. Seeing a chance, Stella offered an option. "Either Sam can do it, Dean, or I can tie your wrists. Which do you want?"

With the choice left to Dean, he has to think for a couple of minutes. Dean's not sure he can handle Sam being that intimate a part of his sexual desires—even if it's not a sexual role—but he also still can't quite say yes to that type of restraint.

"I can handle it, Dean," Sam reassured Dean, when Sam saw Dean was struggling to choose. "Let me help."

And Dean heard the love in Sam's voice, wrapped in anger. Sam still felt guilty for Dean's time in Hell. This is something, not minor to Dean but a simple thing for Sam to do….

Dean, his voice harsh, rough and shaky, agreed. "Yes, please." Closing his eyes, Dean bit his lip, waiting.

Stella twisted Dean's face back for a tender kiss, forcing him to look her in the eyes while she spoke, "Good boy. Let us take care of you. You don't always have to be the big brother in charge, the bad-ass Hunter. Just be…Dean."

The second shudder passing through him was even more violent than the first, Dean's eyes closing against his will. A couple of deep breaths, and both Sam and Stella could see Dean make his muscles relax. "Okay." It was barely a whisper.

Stella shifted Dean around, so that his back was to the headboard now and she was in front of him, pressing gentle kisses all over his face, allowing Sam to take up a position not quite behind Dean, but off to the side a little, and wrap one of his large hands firmly around Dean's wrists. Sam's fingers brushed against the bare skin of Dean's lower back as he grasped; Dean's reaction to his wrists being held tight and immobile distracted Sam from any thoughts about inappropriate touching. Dean was…

Calm. His usual energy skittering beneath his skin, keeping him from sitting still, not moving, was gone. Sam suddenly understood Dean's restlessness since he had been back. If this was something that centered him, took him out of his head, and he had been deprived by his own inability…

Stella spoke into Dean's ear. "Is this okay, Dean? Do you feel okay?"

"Yes," Dean answered.

Stella could hear that he was okay, but she wanted his eyes as well to be sure. "Look at me when you talk. Are you okay with your hands like this?" she demanded.

"Yes," Dean repeated, meeting her eyes with blown pupils.

Stella pushed him further. "Why is this okay? Why couldn't you ask for this?"

Dean's eyes were barely green now, just an edge of forest against black. While Stella wanted Dean to just enjoy the headspace, she also wanted to help him work through his issues. "Answer. I need to hear."

Dean licked his lips, trying to keep eye contact going. "You won't hurt me. I know this is safe with you. But I-" Dean stumbled on his words. "I wasn't the safe one. I get so lost in myself, and I'm afraid I'll come back to myself in Hell again."

"Yes, you are safe. I want you to enjoy this, Dean. We want to give this back to you." Stella leaned her forehead against Dean's. "We are safe. You can just be. You will come back to yourself with us right here."

Stella resumed gentle kisses that turned into bites down Dean's jawline and onto his neck…across his freckled shoulder until she raised her mouth to meet Sam's, over Dean's shoulder. Dean stilled. He doesn't seem troubled by it—just, waiting. Dean knows she will get back to him, and doesn't begrudge Sam's momentary enjoyment of her.

Especially when Stella's body is still pressed against his, naked and soft and curvy.

Stella turned her attention back to Dean, kissing him hard and deep. "Do not move," she repeated. She makes her nipping, biting way down his broad chest, pausing at each nipple to bite and suck and drive a needy moan from Dean before moving on. Tongue laving the ripples of his muscles, nipping at the indents at his hips, she took Dean's straining cock into her mouth. Dean's reaction is to try and find his way deeper into her warm wet mouth, stopped by her quick slap to his thigh and Sam's hands of steel limiting his forward movement.

"Last warning, big boy," Stella pulled off him to state, before diving back in. Stella kept Dean on edge, pulling away and letting his need settle down. Dean was almost there, but not quite; by the fifth time, Dean is begging for her to finish him off.

Stella's rich, satisfied chuckle echoed in the room. "If you can be a good boy, can keep position without moving…and let Sam fuck me from behind while I suck you…I'll finish you off."

And, just as Stella planned, Dean is broken, because he can't do that without help—and Stella knows it. "I can't—Stel, please—don't make me…I need…"

Stella savors a few minutes of Dean pleading before proposing what she wanted all along. "Can we tie your hands, then? Rope? Or handcuffs?"

Dean's mind is a pachinko machine, the need to get off driving all thought. Ropes, he doesn't think he can handle ropes—the flashback will kill any chance of getting off. But handcuffs…Dean agrees to handcuffs.

Reaching into her drawer, Stella hands the cuffs off to Sam. Sam was surprised Dean agreed to this and he can still see that his brother is a bit stressed by the necessity. Sam is fine with being support on this, not touching Stella at all, but Stella…

"Sam!" Stella's sharp tone brought Sam's mind back into focus. "Put them on Dean, now."

Sam found himself obeying without a second thought at her tone. Dean's breath stuttered at the feel of the cold metal against his wrists, but a contented sigh escaped at the click of each wristband locking. Sam waited for more instruction from Stella.

"Dean, I'm going to need you to lift your ass up a little. You can lean against the headboard to support yourself while on your knees," Stella helped Dean adjust to the new position, then went down on her hands and knees in front of him. "Sam, behind me."

Stella reached and wrapped a hand around Sam's length, pumping a few times to get him as hard as she wanted him before handing him another foil packet. "Fuck me slow and deep, no matter what. If I want you to change it up, I'll let you know." Sam nodded his agreement, the condom rolling down his cock before Stella had managed to get herself back into position, mouth on Dean.

"Now I'm going to do this right, with no hands yanking my hair and screwing up my rhythm," Stella stated firmly, licking Dean from base to tip. "You are NOT to move, Dean. Absolutely still. I promise it will be worth it."

Dean nodded, looking only once directly at Sam, uncertainty in his eyes, before giving Stella his full attention. "Eyes open and on me. No closing them. Got it?" Stella continued.

"Yes," Dean managed to gravel out.

Stella took Dean in deep and slow. Her hand massaged what she couldn't cover with her mouth, until she managed to work Dean's length into her throat. Then she held it for a few seconds before sliding back up. "Now, Sam," she directed.

Sam slid into her at the same slow pace Stella had been using on Dean. She was tight on him, responsive to his movements and Dean's muttered curses and praise. Sam couldn't tear his eyes from the sight of her stretched out around him, shiny and slick and so pink. The build-up was pleasurable, but slow…until it wasn't and hit him like a ton of bricks all at once.

"Stella," Sam gasped out.

"Not yet, Sam," Stella pulled off Dean to order him. "Dean first. Are you almost ready, Sweetie?" she asked Dean, studying him.

Dean nodded enthusiastically. "God, yes, please."

So Stella sunk back down on Dean, increasing her pace a little, holding him to a plateau for a bit longer. Sam met her pace again, careful and frustrated. Stella increased; Sam increased. Dean's breath grew louder and more irregular, small moans finding their way in. Stella worked Dean harder, but still not frantic or forceful. Her control was in knowing the boys would follow her lead, and that they did so because she asked them to, not because she could make them do it. If the Winchesters were done playing her games, they could easier turn the tables and she could do nothing about it.

That taste of given control, the restrained strength of Dean beneath her and Sam behind her, had her ready to go over the edge, but she needed Dean to go there first. This was about Dean.

So Stella trailed her hand down to Dean's balls, gentle rubbing and tugging, before reaching further beneath him with her other hand. Sliding against the curve of his ass, avoiding the space between so that there was no mistaking what she was doing, she gripped the chain holding the cuffs as a set and pulled down on it hard, just as she tugged and sucked equally hard.

Dean practically screamed, unable to contain himself. "I'm going to.." was all he got out before Stella pulled again, non-verbal permission to come given. So Dean did, so hard he had to slump against the headboard to stay upright.

Stella, now that Dean had been taken care of, rocked back against Sam and turned to look back at him. "Your turn, Sam," was all it took and Sam was equally wrecked. Feeling Sam drive deep into her and flood the condom with warm release was all it took for her, too, to go over.

It's not exactly afterglow, the lethargy flooding all their systems, but there is a sense of belonging, of rightness. There is something different in Dean now, in his eyes, as the three settle down into the bed for some rest. Case or no, the intense emotions and physical exertion of the past few hours required some shut eye.

With any luck, maybe a repeat show before leaving tomorrow morning. Sam knows they will be stopping to see Stella again on their next case in the area. He looks forward to it.


End file.
